Posts Tagged ‘non-consenting’

Gideon Davies, there is no other way to put it, when it came to women, was a loser. Almost painfully shy, he was almost incapable of carrying on a conversation comprised of small talk beyond what was playing at the Cineplex or the weather forecast for tomorrow. On the other hand, ask him to describe the social structure in Egypt three thousand years ago, and he could almost wax poetic.

Gideon, Deon to his few close friends, was a junior at the University, which he attended on a combination of scholarships and grants. His part time job, which he had held since he was a freshman, was as a junior assistant to the curator at the history museum maintained by the Middle Eastern Studies Department, where he was a student.

He was on his way to work, admiring the rising full moon this August evening, the last full moon before the autumnal equinox. As it cleared the horizon, it was magnificent, filling the summer sky. As he turned into the drive at the museum, he thought it looked like the moon was shining directly into the Egyptian Room, but as he drove around the building to the rear parking area, the orb cleared the tree line and appeared to shrink and dim.

As he entered the museum, he shouted his usual hello to the security guard, “Hey, Jim! Beautiful night out there. How’d the Sox do today?”

“Evenin’, Gidjiin. Have to tell you later; they’re tied at 2 in the bottom of the eleventh. Dr Thomas said you should meet him in the Egyptian storeroom.”

“What’s going on? Any idea?”

“Some new piece came in today; some minor goddess, but he was quite excited. Acted like he was about to pee hisself.”

Deon laughed. Dr. Thomas often seemed like he was about to ‘pee hisself,’ Deon thought, but tonight he probably had cause. The good doctor had been negotiating with the Metropolitan Museum of Art to trade for a 3500 year old statue of the Egyptian goddess Astarte. He had received word last week that they had accepted his last offer of some money and some pieces to fill holes in their collection of Etruscan erotic pottery; pieces Dr. Thomas had been trying to quietly dispose of since he had become the chief curator. Acquisition of the Astarte statue was a similarly longstanding ambition.

Deon hastened down the corridor to the storeroom where Dr. Thomas and the latest addition to the museum’s Egyptian collection awaited him. “Evening, Dr. T. I hear Astarte has arrived. How does she look?”

“Evening, Gideon. She looks fine. A bit feminine for a goddess of war. She looks more appropriate for a fertility symbol. She’s in good shape, just needs some gentle washing and buffing. See what you can do, will you? Transfer paperwork and provenance documentation is on the desk. Check it out and prepare it for verification, then leave it in my mailbox. If anything looks amiss, make a note of it for me.” He was silent for a long moment, gazing at the statue.

“Damn, I would love to have known the artist and his model. She was certainly beautiful. Thirty-five hundred years later and she still exudes sensuality, and restrained passion. Don’t mind telling you, kid, looking at her makes me want to go home and jump the wife. Think I will, in fact. See you tomorrow.” The chief curator turned and walked out of the room, giving Deon a wave. He turned in the doorway.

“The Met sent along cleaning instructions and a piece of lamb’s fleece they said should be used to clean her. They said it had been recovered from the tomb where they found her, tied around her neck with a piece of sinew. Just dampen the fleece with a little water and wipe her down.”

“Got it. I’ll start on the paperwork first, to see if there are any other tips to taking care of the statue. Go on and enjoy your evening,” Deon laughed. His supervisor just grinned and walked away.

Deon picked up the folder containing the paper work and groaned. It would take most of the night to check it out. He was taking an abbreviated summer session Advanced Art History course. The first of five weekly exams was scheduled tomorrow, and he had planned on studying some tonight.

Four hours later, almost midnight, Deon straightened up from his desk, stretching his back. The paperwork all appeared to be in order. From the time the statue had been discovered in Akhenaten’s tomb, it had never been out of the care of professional artifact handlers. Her travels since then were better documented than the President’s. Hell, the Royal Museum and the Louvre, along with the Met, had even documented when they had moved it simply to change her place in on-going displays.

He looked at the new acquisition. He had to agree with Dr. T. She was remarkably beautiful, the kind of woman who usually left him tongue-tied just by saying hello to him. “No problem of that here,” he thought to himself, with a wry grin.

“Ahhh, Astarte,” he said aloud. “If you were alive, I’d be shaking in my boots just being in the same room, never mind alone with you. You are so beautiful I’ll probably be dreaming of you for a month of Sundays. I wish I could find a real girl like you to be with.” He found the fleece on the table near her and went to the sink near the doorway to dampen it. When he turned to return, he stopped and caught his breath.

The statue was positioned directly below a skylight, and directly above it, the moon was shining brightly, illuminating the goddess like an arc light. Almost unconsciously, Deon’s hand went out to turn off the store room lights. The effect was magical. Without knowing he was moving, Deon walked to the stone effigy and began to clean it.

As he washed the piece of stone, his free arm crept around her, as if in embrace. Initially, it had felt cold, like any other piece of statuary, but as he held it and caressed it with the damp fleece, the female figure began to take on warmth. When he moved the cleaning cloth across the statue’s bosom, he could have sworn the nipples took on definition and its hips had pushed into his. Impulsively, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the statue’s.

Almost immediately he pulled back, thinking, “Christ, what am I doing? Trying to make out with a 3500 year old statue! What the fuck kind of loser am I?” He turned and walked back to his desk.

“If you are a loser, then your winners and heroes must be legendary,” said a small feminine voice.

Deon spun around. Before him stood a living exemplar of the statue, dressed in the white mid-thigh length skirt Egyptian women seemed to prefer, according to the many drawings and temple depictions he had seen. Like many of those women, the one before him was bare breasted. She was small, about five feet two; her skin was the color of a coffee latte, with dark, nearly chocolate brown, eyes and blue black hair. Her breasts were conical, crested by puffy, dark nipples; her hips were generously voluptuous.

He opened his mouth to speak, and squeaked instead. A tired, knowing smile appeared on the woman’s face; a smile that said she was familiar with the effect she had on men. She walked to the young man and gently caressed his cheek. “You have nothing to fear, Gideon. In freeing me from my prison, you have indebted me to you.” She looked around the room and spied a daybed against the wall. “Come,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the daybed.

She pushed him to sit down. In doing so, he became aware that his clothes were gone, as well as her skirt. She pulled his head to her left breast, pushing it into his mouth. Although he was still a virgin, he had seen and read enough about this situation that he knew what he was supposed to do, and he began to kiss and suck on the lovely mammaries presented to him. Rewarded with a soft moan, he let his hands begin to explore the body now straddling his knees.

This resulted in more moans, and in a few minutes, he was aware of a change in the atmosphere. The room was getting noticeably warmer, and there was a scent in the air-one with which he was familiar only by reputation. It was a musky, sweet, spicy smell; an odor which spoke directly to his maleness. He felt his manhood raise up. The woman pressed him back on the daybed, and in an instant he felt his member engulfed in the most pleasurable warmth and moistness man can know. She began to move on his staff.

From somewhere, a long ways away, Jim was calling him, “Gidjiin, wake up, son! C’mon, Gidjiin! You gots to wake up! The bosses will be plumb angry if they catch you asleep here in the storeroom. C’mon, Gidjin!” He felt Jim shake him by the shoulder.

In his head, much quieter than Jim, came a small feminine voice. “Come, Gideon, it is time to awaken. Don’t mention me to Jim; he can’t see me. Only you can see or hear me. Wake up now, and let us go get you some breakfast, and we will talk.”

Deon was wide awake in a second. “Uhh, oh, thanks, Jim. You’re right; they’d crap a brick. I must have fallen asleep after I cleaned up the statue. Damn, and I have a test in Art History this afternoon I was going to study for last night. Crap! She already has me in her sights from last year.”

“C’mon, boy, you got to git, or you’ll be in more sights than hers!”

Deon stood up, noticing that his clothes were back on. He shook his head, clearing it. “Okay, Jim. I’m outta here. See you tonight.” He picked up his backpack and the paperwork, which he dropped off on his way out of the building. On his way out of the parking lot, he nearly turned toward his dormitory and its cafeteria.

Figuring it wouldn’t look too good to appear to be talking to himself in a roomful of his peers, he turned and drove to a diner he sometimes frequented. Inside, the waitress, a slightly plump, pleasant looking, young woman he sometimes saw on campus, greeted him with a small smile. “She likes you,” said the voice in his head. “Do you want her? I can give her to you.”

“Yes, no! I don’t know! Who…what are you? Where did you come from?” he thought, plopping down in the booth farthest from the front door.

“In a minute. The waitress is coming. Give her your order, then I’ll answer your questions.”

The waitress was at his side. “Hey, Deon, you’re in early this morning. What can I get for you?”

“Morning, Donna. Yeah, I fell asleep at my desk at work last night. The guard found me on his rounds this morning and booted me out. Guess it’s good it wasn’t my boss. Mmhmm, better make it a couple of eggs, sunny side, some home fries and sausage patties, juice and coffee, double cream.”

“OJ?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I shoulda…”

“Don’t sweat it. Ready for the Art History exam? Taking that course in the summer is a real, excuse my french, bitch. I took the intro during the regular term a couple of semesters ago, and that was bad. McGee can be a real pain and her tests…yuk.”

“Oh, no. no talent. I’m a Psych major, going for a concentration in Perception, with a minor in Art. I have all the intro courses in techniques and media. I need a sequence of three courses for the minor. The two history courses and an independent study of an artist of my choice will complete the minor.

“I better get your order in. It won’t be long. You want your OJ and coffee now?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

As the young waitress walked away, the voice in his head started again. “I told you she liked you. Are you sure I can’t give her to you? She would be in addition to the gifts you’ve already received.”

“Who are you? Where did you come from? Why can I hear you, but no one else?”

“So many questions, and you already know most of the answers; you just don’t believe them. I am Astarte, the goddess whose statue you were trying to make love to last night.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You didn’t kiss me and fondle my breasts? Somebody did, and you were the only person in the room.”

“I…”

“You needn’t apologize. If I were at all offended, that large dark man would have found a corpse when he came in this morning. As it was, your tender actions and feelings freed me from 35 centuries of unwarranted captivity. That cow, Nefertiti, she of the long nose, was able to convince her god, Ra, to seal me up in that statue. Just because her brother thought I was prettier than she.

“I’ve been waiting for 3500 years for someone like you to come along at the right time…”

“Right time? Someone like me?”

“Yes, someone who desired me, on the anniversary of the centennial of my creation, the last full moon before the autumnal equinox. For 34 of those occasions I was sealed in an airtight tomb. But this time, you were there and freed me. For that, I am forever indebted to you, and will give you the gift of Astarte. No woman will be able to refuse you. All you have to do is ask, and they will give you what you ask for.

“Even if she is with another man, he, also, will yield to you, and give you what you ask of him. You cannot ask them to harm themselves or each other. The men can be told to leave, watch, join, silence themselves and climax. Except for the limits on physically harming themselves, there is no limit on what you can ask of a woman, as long as she is physically capable of carrying out the act.

“Even though I am the goddess of love, I cannot make them love you. The woman, if she is strongly attached to another, may be aware that she is being willed to submit, and may try to resist you. If you persist, she will yield. You will find some for whom the idea of coupling with any man, or woman, is abhorrent. Even they will yield, and, if you instruct them properly, they will enjoy their experience with you.”

“If I instruct them properly?”

“Yes. You may not force yourself on them. You must ask them for what you want. If, in the case of the women we were just discussing, you want them to enjoy the coupling, you will have to find a way to ask them to enjoy it, to climax and experience the rapture.”

“How do I ask them? Just walk up and say, ‘will you have sex with me?’”

Astarte laughed. “Oh, Elal! Men haven’t changed at all since Neffi shut me in that stone. I think that is comforting, but also disheartening.

“There are many ways to convey your wishes, Gideon. You can tell her what you want her to do; what you would like; what would give you pleasure; what you don’t like, or want her to stop doing. Your modern conversations offer so much variety in the way people can express their wishes. Even your direct approach will work, in situations where it can be used.

“Your coffee is coming. Pay attention to the young woman. Soon she will be in your bed. A few weeks maybe, you will be her hero.”

Gideon laid his pen down and closed his exam booklet. He looked around. Over two thirds of the class was still writing, and there was only a quarter hour left in the allotted time. It had been a killer exam. Fair, but still a killer. The students had to choose one of four sets of three pieces of art, to identify the piece, the artist, the time period, and to discuss the newest piece in relationship to what was happening societally at the time of their creation, comparing it to the others.

He picked up his backpack and made his way to the front of the room to turn in his exam. “Mr. Davies, I see you came back. I think we should talk about what I expect from you in this class. Be in my office at 4:30.”

“I have…”

“4:30, Mr. Davies. No excuses except death or maiming accident.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At 4:25 Gideon stood, waiting, in the hall outside of Professor Roberta McGee’s office. From around the corner, down the hall, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, the hard rapping sound of high heels on tiles over concrete. He turned to look and saw Bertie turn the corner. He caught just the glimmer of a smile when she saw him waiting.

He watched her come down the hall. On the tall side of average, she displayed the results of her daily mile run with pride. In her mid fifties, she was still as trim and fit as she had been as a cheerleader her senior year in college. There was a slight thickening around the waist, due to her age, and her breasts needed a trifle more support from her brassieres now than they had then, but only a purist would object if they saw them exposed.

“Ah, Mr. Davies! May I call you Gideon?” He nodded, puzzled. “Thank you. I am sorry for making you meet me at this hour on a Friday, but I felt it was important that we understand each other. With such abbreviated class time, I think it best disruptions be kept to an absolute minimum. I’m sure you understand.

“Given our history, may I ask why you registered for my course?”

“Uh, I didn’t. I actually registered for Professor Jeffries section, but he prefers majors. When three of them registered late, he bumped me and I was assigned to your section since I needed the course to complete the sequence for my mid-east studies major.”

“I see. As I said, I would like to avoid disruptions in class, or keep them to a minimal level. During discussion, unless you are arguing provable facts, I would appreciate it, in fact, I am going to require you to refrain from joining discussions. To that end, I will give you a B for that part of your grade based on participation.”

Deon was stunned. He didn’t know what he expected, but being muzzled wasn’t anywhere close. Not even with the bribe. He sat there, silent, unmoving.

“Gideon? May I take your silence as agreement. I want an answer.”

From somewhere, Gideon heard himself saying, “And I want you to come around here and fuck me after you suck my cock to erection!”

The shocked look on his professor’s face told him the voice had not been his imagination. He was just as shocked when, instead of screaming at him to get his perverted ass out of her office, she stood up and walked around the desk, a glazed look on her face, and dropped to her knees in front of him. She reached for his belt buckle. “I’m not very good at this. I’ve only done it once, when I was a teenager.”

She looked up at him, holding his eyes with hers. “You’re making me do this, somehow, aren’t you? There’s no way I would willingly do this for any student, and especially you. But I can’t help myself. Omigod, your cock. I want to swallow it. I can’t help myself!”

She closed her mouth over Gideon’s flaccidity and began to caress his hardening staff with her tongue. As she felt it grow and harden in her mouth, she moaned. She found she enjoyed the feel of the soft rigidity between her lips, the soft velvety feeling of his glans against her cheeks and tongue, the heat in her mouth. She was surprised to feel herself moisten between her legs. The moans got louder, more frequent.

Gideon reached down and caressed her breast. He pulled her to a standing position. “I want to see you naked,” he told her, recalling Astarte’s instructions. Bertie smiled as she reached behind her for the zipper to her dress.

“This is ridiculous. You are making me participate in my own rape, and I’m enjoying it. I can feel myself being forced to act against my better judgment, and liking it. How are you doing that? It isn’t hypnotism, nor drugs…”

Gideon stopped her by pressing his lips to hers. He sat down and drew her onto his lap, his cock entering her smoothly, effortlessly. “Oh, god,” she moaned, and began to post on his staff. “Ohmigodohmigodohmigod,” she repeated as she began to move faster, Deon helping her, thrusting his hips toward her on her downstrokes. Within a few minutes her vocalizations turned to “yes yes yes yes yes,” and finally “yesssssssss!” as the climax washed over her.

She sat there, her forehead leaning on Deon’s as she caught her breath and recovered from the first orgasm she had experienced in over a year. As she recovered, she was aware of the staff still rigid in her vagi. She pulled back so she could see Deon’s eyes. “You didn’t…” He shook his head. Bertie smiled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Is there another position which might be better for you? Maybe from the back?” She dismounted from his lap and turned to brace herself on her elbows on the desk.

As he slipped into her, Deon noticed that he was somewhat longer than ususal. He bent over her back and took hold of her dangling breasts. “Mmm, this is a whole lot better than a B, don’t you think? I want to do this with you at least once a week. And tonight, when you get home, I want you to give that husband of yours a blow job, and another when you wake up in the morning. You’ll do that for me won’t you, and tell me how it went on Monday before class?”

Bertie McGee flushed with a combination of shame and desire. Shame from submitting to her student’s demands, embarrassed because she knew she would submit and enjoy the act of submission as well as the sexual acts involved, and the desire to please him.

The Art History class met from noon until three, three days a week, MWF. Monday, Deon was held up at the library and was delayed getting to class until just before the class was called to order. As soon as she saw him rush to his seat, Bertie felt herself moisten. She swore to herself, afraid the students in the front row would be aware of her scent. In addition, because she had not been able to carry out his wish to be told about her sessions with her husband before class, she was nervous throughout the class.

During the mid-class break, he approached her, and quietly told her to relax, he would see her in her office after class. She visibly relaxed, and the difference in her teaching was noticeable after he spoke to her. Several students, aware of their confrontations over the merits of some attributions in regard to pre-Hellenistic era art objects, questioned him about it. “It’s nothing. You guys, just settle down and pay attention in class. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Later that afternoon, he met Bertie outside her office. Unlocking the door she stepped inside, followed by Deon. He placed his hands on her hips and told her to stand still. He turned, closed and locked the door. He again stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, cupping her ample breasts. “I want you leaning on the desk, like you were Friday.” She nodded and assumed the position he desired. She trembled as she felt him raise her skirt and drape it over her back. He drew her granny briefs from her waist to her feet where he removed them from her right foot, leaving them around the other ankle.

He pulled out his erect phallus and took position behind his professor. Leaning forward, he took her ear in his mouth and asked, “What do you want, Dr. McGee?”

She whimpered, “No, don’t ask me; just do it! Just take me, like you did, please.”

“Is that what you want, to be taken, used, without regard for your satisfaction?” With a small sob, she shook her head. “I want to know what you want.”

“I…I want to please you. I don’t understand that; it’s something , some power you have over me. I don’t want to just fuck; I want to make love and be made love to. And I want to be able to make love with my husband again.”

Deon stepped away from the older woman and sat down in the visitors’ chair. He pulled her into his lap and pulled her to his chest. Sliding his hand up her skirt, to take hold of her vulva, he said, “Tell me about you and your husband this weekend.”

“Friday, after you left, I got dressed, but I left my panties and bra off. I have to say, that felt strange, but nice in a way. I went straight home. Fred, my husband, was home, and his brother was there. He had come up for the weekend to visit. I was a little disconcerted, not sure how to do what you said.

“I went to our bedroom, ostensibly to change. After a minute or so, I called Fred. When he came in, I pushed him onto the bed and pulled his shorts down so I could get to his thing. Then I proceeded to do what you said. But he didn’t get hard, and he didn’t come.

“After a few minutes, he tapped me on the head and pulled me up for a kiss. Then he turned me toward the door. Bill, his brother was there, with his thing in his hand, stroking it. I must have turned 15 shades of red. I looked at Fred, who just nodded and pushed me at Bill. I got on my knees and proceeded to do for him what I did for you and my husband. I barely got my mouth around him when I felt him spraying my throat.

“When he was done, he just turned away and went to his room. I sat down on the bed, feeling kind of empty. Freddie wrapped me up in his arms and kissed me, then said thank you.

“I woke him in the morning, like you asked. He responded a little bit, got longer, but not hard. After ten minutes or so, he pulled me up for a kiss and told me to go wake his brother up the same way. I was working on getting Bill to come in my mouth again when he pulled me up beside him and rolled me on to my back. Before I knew what he was doing, he was in me, humping like he hadn’t had sex in years.

“I heard a noise in the doorway and saw Fred there, watching. I motioned for him to come to the bed. When he did, I pulled off Bill and got on my hands and knees so I could suck Fred’s organ while Bill finished. Fred got bigger than he had been in a long time, but not hard, and squirted in my mouth, just as Bill started to come. I raised up to kiss Fred, and I guess Bill sprayed all over the bed. I asked Fred if that’s what it took to get him hard, watching me with another man, did he want to do it that way again.” Bertie stopped for a sob. “He didn’t say a word, just nodded and walked out, leaving me there with Bill who was getting ready to do some more. I told him no and went to shower.

“Yesterday, after Bill left, Fred and I were sitting on the couch cuddling. I reached over to rub his crotch area and asked if he wanted me to try to suck it again. He said no, and asked if I knew someone who I would fuck so he could watch again. When I said no, he just got up and went out for the rest of the evening.”

While she had been talking, Deon had been fingering Bertie’s slit. By the time she finished her recounting of the weekend, she had dried up. “I’m sorry, Bertie. I thought having you perform an act you didn’t usually do, as a surprise, would spark some good times for you.”

“If Bill hadn’t been there, it might have. I don’t think Fred had any idea his brother would take it further. But once he did, and it stirred Fred’s juices, he isn’t willing to settle for less, or even try. I have a feeling if I don’t find someone to have sex with while he watches, he’ll find someone for me.”

“What if I come over tonight? Maybe I can use some of this strange power you think I have to help overcome your husband’s impotence. And get you his permission to continue our thing here into the fall.”

“Do you think you could? Really? You’re not just setting Fred and me up for some perverted joke?”

Deon closed his eyes and mentally called, “Astarte! I need some guidance here.”

“Yes, my hero. What do you need?”

“How much about you can I tell Bertie?”

“Bertie? Oh, the woman on your lap. You can tell her everything, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t believe you.”

When Deon hd finished telling his professor about his encounter with Astarte, and her gift, she simply looked at him for a long moment, then pushed his hand, which had been holding her vulva throughout his narration, away and stood up. “If you can’t be serious, why did you make me tell you about my weekend? I think you should leave now. I’ll handle Fred somehow.”

“Turn around and lean on the desk. I’m going to screw your ass.” he said in a harsh voice.

“Go to hell, mister! Get your miserable self out of here before I call security!” She was practically screaming at him, her face flushed with anger.

“Bertie,” he said softly. “I said I want to screw your ass.” He watched, amazed at the transformation as the anger disappeared from her face, to be replaced by lust. With no further instruction, she turned and leaned on the desk with one hand while the other reached down and pulled the back of her skirt up over her hips. He remained seated, waiting.

She stood there, supporting her self on her hands, waiting for him. After several seconds, she turned to look at him, to see him there, watching her, with an expectant look on his face. Then it dawned on her-her change in attitude and behavior when he had expressed his desire instead of demanding her submission.

“Omigod, it’s true; your story is true. You can have any woman you want, whenever or where ever you want to have her.” She stood up and turned to face him. “On behalf of women everywhere, I should probably shoot you, but Friday was one of the best times I can ever remember, and I want more like that. We’ll talk about Fred and his problem later,” she said smiling, moving toward her new favorite student, unbuttoning the fastener at the waist of her skirt.

That evening, at home, over drinks after dinner, Bertie asked her husband, “Fred, can we talk about this weekend?”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Your needs, your desires. What they mean for us.”

“Bertie, I love you, and I always will. If I can’t be a lover to you, there is no reason you should give up that part of your life. If you need to find someone to take care of that need, I will understand and accept that.”

“Thank you, but I wanted to talk about you. You said it aroused you to watch me with another man, and you would want to watch me some more; you even asked if I knew someone you could watch me with.”

“Mmmrrg…I did? I don’t …”

“Fred! We’ve been together too long for that. Maybe you didn’t say explicitly that it was what you wanted or needed, but you nodded when I asked you that. And you did ask if I knew someone.”

“I’m sorry.” he looked at her, a sheepish expression on his face. “It’s just hard to admit that I’m no longer the man you married.”

“Bull! You are just as much a man now as you were thirty years ago; you just show it differently now.” She smiled at him, her eyes full of love. “If you do need that kind of stimulation, though, to be able to climax, I may have a solution.”

“You thought of someone?”

“Maybe. There’s a student in my advanced class this summer whom I need to find a way to muzzle. Normally, he’s quiet and reserved, but when it comes to early Mid-Eastern art, he becomes quite quarrelsome. I thought if I could offer him a bribe of sort s, maybe he would be willing to keep quiet in class. He wouldn’t have to know you were watching, unless you wanted to participate, like you did with Bill.”

“I don’t know, Bertie; subjecting yourself to an intimate relationship with some one who sounds difficult…”

“Oh, dear no, Sweetheart! Outside of class when we meet, he is quite the nice gentleman. I must say he’s not much to look at, no where near as handsome as you, and in a crowd, he could easily get lost. It’s only in the one area where he gets difficult and challenging. Why don’t I ask him to stop by for a drink tomorrow, so you can meet him?”

About the same time that conversation was taking place, Deon was settling himself at a popular student watering hole. Busy, it wasn’t overcrowded, so there was no real need for the blonde to squeeze in between him and the football player to his left. Even less reason for her to drop her purse on the bar and spill his beer. Her exasperated look at him when he yelled made it plain she thought it was all his fault, for sitting there and being in her way.

The barkeep, who had witnessed it all, asked Deon if he wanted another beer as he mopped up the mess. Deon nodded and reached for his wallet, knowing the blonde wouldn’t pay for it. The barkeep just held up his left hand, and reached for a pair of bills from in front of the football player as he pulled the draft. With a grin, Deon told him, “Keep the change.”

“Hey, buddy, that’s my money you’re spending,” said the large tackle.

Deon looked at him and smiled. “Not me, your girl, here,” he replied with a nod toward the blonde. “That suitcase she calls a handbag knocked over my beer, and it was just getting to the right temperature to drink.”

“Oh,” came the reply, sounding a bit confused. “Be careful with that bag, Amanda, and apologize to the man.”

With the briefest of glances over her shoulder, Amanda said something that sounded like ‘ree.’ Deon grinned. “Astarte,” he thought, “I hope you’re working tonight, because I’m going to take this one all the way.” Out loud, he said, “That’s okay. You can make it up by dancing with me.” She turned and gave him a look which clearly meant not in this lifetime.

He stopped the waitress, passing by, and whispered something to her. She nodded, glassy eyed, and made her way to the piano player. In a minute or two, the soft sounds of “Harbor Lights” could be heard over the crowd noise.

Deon tapped Amanda on the shoulder. “Will you dance with me now?” To the obvious surprise of the tackle, she nodded, a little hesitantly. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked the athlete, who shook his head. “Thank you, and watch my seat, would you?”

On the floor, he pulled Amanda into the standard slow dance position, tightened his grip and turned his left hand around, pulling her closer, into full body contact, the back of his left hand resting against her right breast. “Mmm, nice. Are they real?” he asked, moving his left hand up and down, rubbing her nipple through the light tee shirt she was wearing.

A quick flash of anger flitted across her face before she smiled and answered, “Of course they’re real! You can feel for yourself, can’t you?”

“Just waiting for permission,” he grinned, releasing her hand and turning his hand so he was palming her b -cup. She gasped, then leaned into him, effectively hiding his hand action.

“Please, not here. My fianc‚…”

“Ahhh! Okay. I want you to meet me back by the ladies room after the song ends.” With a disturbed look, Amanda nodded.

When the song ended, Deon gave her a twirl and a small push toward the back of the bar. He returned to his seat and took a swallow of his beer. The tackle asked him about the girl. “Ladies room,” Deon replied, “which my bladder says I should imitate, only the one across the hall.” The football player laughed, nodding.

Amanda was waiting, dancing from one foot to the other, nervously. “Anyone in there?” Deon asked. She shook her head. He pushed the door open and waved her in ahead of him, locking the door after them.

“Wha…wha…what are you going to do?” she asked him, her eyes wide with fright.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Force me to have sex with you.”

“Force you? That won’t be necessary, will it? You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“Yes, no…oh, I do, but I don’t. Please, don’t make me. I’m not on the pill, and me and my fiance’‚ are trying to get me pregnant. I’ll do anything else you want, just don’t do it in my vagina.”

“Does he know you’re trying to get pregnant?” She looked down and slowly shook her head no. “Well then, maybe we should tell him.” She looked up, quickly, alarmed, shaking her head. “Okay, I’ll give you a month to catch a baby. If you aren’t pregnant by then, I’ll find you and we’ll screw like rabbits on steroids. For now, first show those lovely mammas, then show me how good you eat dick.”

Amanda first looked shocked, then she grinned and said, “Thank you,” as she pulled off the tee shirt she was wearing. As Deon had suspected, there was nothing under it. She moved toward him and started to go down on her knees when he stopped her and pulled her to him for a kiss.

“One month, Mandy, then if you’re not pregnant, I’ll fuck you so hard and so long, you won’t be able to walk the next day.” Then he pressed on her shoulders. She simply smiled and pulled his zipper down. She reached in to his boxers and found what she was searching for.

In its flaccid state, Deon’s member was short, but thick. As she leaned forward, she thought to herself, “This shouldn’t take long; a tiny dick like this, he couldn’t have had much experience.” With a tongue motion which betrayed a lot of practice, she inhaled the small organ. Deon’s hand wrapped itself in her hair and pulled her face into his abdomen so her lips were wrapped around the base of his rod.

Suddenly, the girl before him began to struggle and pull away. With a grin, he released her head to let her back off his cock. Amanda’s eyes grew wide with wonder as she backed away. When the staff finally escaped her mouth, she was looking at eight and a half inches of male meat.

She was aware of the tingle starting in her lady. “Omigod,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose you have a rubber in your pocket?” She rubbed her face up and down the side of the shaft she wanted in her vagina.

Deon heard Astarte, “Take her if you want; she will conceive only if it is your desire that she do so.”

He pulled Mandy’s face back toward him. “Let’s see how good you are, Mandy. You’ve got ten minutes to make me come, but you can’t make it happen in less than eight. Too soon or too long, and I share you with that muscle mass you call a fiance’; understand?”

She looked up at him and nodded, his cock embedded in her face, about half of it showing. With her red lips pursed around his staff, the honey blonde hair framing her face, her brown eyes slightly bulged, she presented a classic picture of fellatio in process. It was nearly enough to make him paint her tonsils.

After he gained control of himself, he felt her tongue stroking his rod, swirling around the head as she sucked it into the back of her throat, then pulled out against the suction. She gently fondled his balls, lightly scratching the area behind them. She had just started the head of his staff down her throat when there was a loud banging on the door.

“Mandy? Mandy, are you in there? Is everything okay? Mandy, you there?”

She pulled her head back and looked up at Deon in terror. “Omigod! It’s Kyle! If he catches us, he’ll kill us! He’s very jealous. What can we do?”

“I think you should answer him. Tell him everything is fine; it’s a woman thing and you’ll be out in a minute. Then he’ll go back to the bar and wait for you.”

Amanda nodded. “I’m okay, Kyle. It just a…” she hesitated, as if she was searching for a word, “just a woman’s thing, you know? I’ll be out in a couple of minutes. Unless you want to come in and help me, honey.” she heard herself ask, in a coaxing tone.

“Uhh, no, that’s fine. I’ll wait for you at the bar, but hurry. Remember the coach gave the team a ten o’clock curfew until the end of the season.”

“Okay, I’ll be as quick as I can.” Deon reached down and pulled her to a standing position. He pushed on her back so she was leaning on the sink. “No!” she hissed. “I have to go! You said you wouldn’t until next month.”

“I also said you had ten minutes to make me come. Don’t worry, I won’t get you pregnant, but you better fuck that mountain tonight to make sure,” he said as he sunk his rod in her very damp hole.

“Unnnngh! Oh, yessss! Fuck, that feels good.” She pushed her hips back toward him, imbedding him deeper in her sheath. “More, please. Do it, fuck me. Oh, shit, you feel so good in there,” she moaned. “Oh, god! Fuck, it’s happening already; I’m coming, oh oh oh unhunhunh unhunhunh unhunhunh yessss!” Her climax triggered Deon’s. When she felt his cream hit her inner walls, she went rigid momentarily, then cried out, “unngh!” before collapsing and falling.

Deon caught her just before she hit her head on the sink, and lowered her to the floor. “Mandy, wake up.” he called softly, but loud enough to rouse her. Her eyes opened and she smiled.

“Mmmmmm, oh god, that was nice. I’ve never passed out like that before…”

“Mandy, I want you to listen and do what I tell you now. You have to get up and get dressed. Then go out and tell Kyle you’re horny and need him now. Take him to the parking lot, and if he doesn’t have a car, borrow one and fuck him until he comes at least twice in your pussy. I want you to come twice for every time he does. Make him feel special. Make him want only you.” He bent down and kissed her. “And, then, I want to see you in the library on September 10, at 9:30 in the A of M, by the elevator to the stacks. Be there.”